


Under Pressure

by naarna



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dramionelove Mini Fest 2017, Embarrassment, Erectile Dysfunction, F/M, Marital Problems, Marriage, Sexual Dysfunction, argument, fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 10:30:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11206212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naarna/pseuds/naarna
Summary: Stress takes its toll on Draco, and Hermione tries to help...





	Under Pressure

**Author's Note:**

> First of all: many, many thanks to QueenVulca for beta reading this little piece! And of course LastBornSlytherin and Amyeco for answering my questions during revision. Your help is much appreciated! :-*
> 
> This was a submission to the DramioneLove Mini Fest 2017 over on LJ.  
> The prompt was: _Draco can't get “it” up!_
> 
> It was definitely an intriguing one to tackle! The squick mentioned no mean Hermione!”, so I preferred to write a more realistic approach instead of turning it into a humour piece. I still hope you enjoy it! :)

“What is it?” Hermione asked. She leaned against Draco from behind, her arms tenderly wrapped around his slumping, naked form on the edge of their bed. Mere seconds ago, he had broken off what she had thought was a slowly-built moment between them—until she had let her hand venture south on him, hoping to give him some pleasure after a hard day’s work. He had immediately stopped her, telling her that he wasn't in the mood for _that_.

“I...” He started, but then stopped again with a sigh. “Just tired from work.”

“Another migraine coming on?”

She placed a soft peck on his cheek and smiled faintly when he nodded. It wasn't the first time she had offered migraines as a graceful escape for him; she knew that the real problem lay somewhere else, not yet mentioned between them, but nonetheless looming over their heads. For over three months now, they hadn't been as intimate as she would have wanted, mostly just cuddling, and then only sometimes. Occasionally, he would pleasure her, but not allow her to return the favour, avoiding the full act of sex altogether.

“I'm sorry, love.”

“You've had a lot of stress lately, my dear,” she replied and placed a soft kiss on his jaw. “You should take a break, you know?”

He sighed deeply and closed his eyes at the touch of her lips. “I know. And I'm sorry, love.”

She wished she could just take the pressure off his mind, even if just for one evening, but that was beyond her powers, so all she could offer was patience and some relief this evening. Of course, she missed the intimacy and the sex they used to have, but it wasn't the most important thing for her in their relationship as a married couple, and so she wouldn't pressure Draco into anything. After all, she had vowed to support him on both good and bad days—and he was clearly going through some bad days right then.

“It's okay,” she finally said, smiling when he took one of her hands in his. “Why not take a nice relaxing bath, take a potion, and then we can just make ourselves comfortable in the bed and cuddle a bit? Maybe you could read for me tonight. You know I love listening to you. I'm a bit exhausted, too, and it always helps me fall asleep.”

“You work too much,” he said, a faint teasing tone in his voice.

“Says the one who comes home late more often than not,” she gently countered, nuzzling his neck. “But you know me, I'm an overachiever,” she added with a low purr.

“You always have been, my dear. Fine, I'll read for you. Is it still _that_ explicit novel from last time?”

She chuckled. “Finished that one, though I wouldn't mind listening to you reading _those_ passages again–”

“I bet you wouldn't.”

She placed one last kiss on his shoulder, then let go of him. “Off with you to the bathroom now. The rest will be ready when you come back, _comfy_ me included. I'll wait for you.”

“Thanks. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

She let go of him, and even gently pushed him off the bed. With a rather heavy heart, she watched him walk over and then disappear into the bathroom.

As soon as the door was closed, she let herself fall on the bed, knowing that she would hear him mutter inaudibly in a matter of moments, frustrated with the situation between them.

She sighed. The excuse of a migraine wasn't going to work forever; it only postponed the inevitable discussion about what was going on with him to all to another day. She had no idea how to approach the subject of his unwillingness to perform, however, without him becoming defensive at the very first words. Oh, this was going to be painful either way, but she hoped that he trusted her enough to see him through the problem.

* * *

  
_**Days later** _

“Hermione!”

She was in the kitchen, preparing herself a snack for dinner when Draco arrived through their fireplace, sounding furious. “I'm here,” she replied, putting the cut fruits in a bowl. That he was home this early surprised her, since he had mentioned that he was supposed to attend a business dinner with his father tonight. “I thought you were–”

“You talked to my father!”

“Yes, I did. Two days ago, in fact, when you were away for business.”

“He sent me home.” His arms crossed, he leaned against the kitchen door, thus blocking her from getting away; only the darker shade of grey in his eyes gave away the real level of rage he was feeling right then. It wouldn't take much more for him to lose control, she knew. “Apparently I need a break. That, and I _need to look after my wife._ What exactly have you told him?”

“You want the truth, Draco?” She put the bowl back on the counter, not in the least intimidated by his lethal glare, as she had seen it too many times over the years. “I'm worried about you, okay?”

“There's nothing to worry about. But you shouldn't have gone to my father about me needing a break. I'm fine–”

“You're not, don't lie to me!” She came closer until she was right in front of him, glaring right back at him. “For Heaven's sake, we haven't been intimate for almost three months now because you can't get _it_ up. Yes, I know what's going on.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, his hands clutched around his arms with white knuckles. “You know about–?”

“Oh, come on! Last time we tried, you wouldn't even let me touch you. Draco, I'm your wife! Another woman might actually feel neglected, but I'm just worried–”

“This is not something I want to talk about, and now you’ve basically told my _father_ about it!. Seriously, didn't you think he would figure it out?”

“It's not something to be ashamed of, and I'm not blaming you! This can happen to any man. Even _my_ dad had problems at one point–”

“YOUR FATHER KNOWS?!”

“YES! HE DOES! Don't you dare shout at me, Draco!”

Growling, he straightened, about to turn away. “Why don't you climb to the roof and shout it so that _everyone_ can hear about my sexual failure? Since you're so hell-bent on embarrassing me, _your_ husband and supposed love of your life!” Clenching his jaw, he walked out of the kitchen, back into the living room.

She followed him. “Don't walk away! We need to talk about it–”

“No.” He went straight for the drink cabinet displayed in the corner. “You don't get it.”

“Not get _what_? That your father buries you in work because he thinks you wouldn't be able to take over the business one day? That he’s been pressuring you to finally produce an heir ever since he learned we we're trying to conceive? Do you really think me this blind? I'm the one they don't think _good_ enough to continue the line, not you. I'm the one they scrutinise and talk down to for not yet carrying their grand _son_ every time we see them. A grand _son_!” She snorted. “As if boys were more important than girls! It's not my only purpose in life–”

Sneering at her words, he poured himself a drink and then tossed it back in a single go. “Welcome to my life, Hermione. I'm being laughed at for my _inability_ to get you pregnant. You don't have to listen to snide comments from _your_ father all day long. So, don't you start talking like you’re the only one being criticised–”

“I know I’m not!” She grabbed the glass from his hand. “And you shouldn't drink while we fight. You turn into a snarky arse when you do that.”

He snatched the glass back, growling in warning at her as he refilled it. “Wonder why...”

She sighed, trying her best not to fall into the trap, and get side-tracked from their current fight. She took a deep breath and shot him another glare for emptying a second drink in one go. “Look, I’m trying to help you find a way out of this situation because I hate to see you suffer.”

“I said I'm fine.”

“Well, lie to yourself then, but it won't make the problem go away! Bottling it up only makes it worse over time...” She threw her hands in the air in frustration. “You forget that we're in this together, Draco. It doesn't just–”

“ _In this together_?” he repeated, sneering at the thought. “Hermione, _I am_ the one who can't finish. _I am_ the one who can't get _it_ up. _Me_! It affects _ME_! Don't you dare assume to know how I feel–”

“Draco, for bloody Merlin's sake, it affects us BOTH!” she retorted, exploding. “You've been so self-absorbed, that you’ve completely forgotten about _me_ —DON'T YOU SHAKE YOUR HEAD! YOU _ARE_ NEGLECTING ME! I've tried to be patient with you, not pressuring you into anything, but it's time we find a solution! I've had enough of your self-pitying, so I've tried to help–”

“I didn't ask for your help!”

“Yes, that's always the problem with you! You’re too stubborn for your own good!”

“I'm not stubborn!” Draco retorted. His hands were shaking, and he was holding on to the glass a little too tight. “You’ve embarrassed me, okay? This is not something–”

“Men and their fragile egos,” Hermione muttered, shaking her head in disbelief. “I don’t _mean_ to embarrass you. Draco, I love you! But this? I... I hate it. I’ve tried to help because I _do_ miss you—the _old_ you, the one that is not so stressed and frustrated. The one I married and who does trust me enough...” She rubbed her temples, growing weary of the fight going nowhere.

“I'll take the guest room tonight.” After one last glare, Draco put the glass on the table in the living room and turned to leave. “And I don't want to talk about this anymore.”

“At least consider getting help somewhere. Because we can't go on like this, Draco...” She only heard the door to their guest room being slammed shut in response.

* * *

 

A week later, Draco had finally made an appointment with a specialist, and he was now waiting to be called. It had been a long week of sleeping alone in the guest room, of mulling over Hermione's words—especially that she missed the _old_ him. The truth was, he missed the _old_ him too, and he missed her. That was why he had finally accepted that he indeed needed help because she was right in saying that they couldn't go on like this. Their marriage wouldn't survive it.

He sighed, and checked the clock on the wall, wincing at the realisation that they were making him wait longer than necessary. Were Muggle doctors always like this? Was this the price you paid for fearing a Healer might slip to the wizarding press that the Malfoys had problems conceiving? But then, Hermione’s father had recommended this specialist when they had visited them for dinner, playing the happy couple, despite not really being on speaking terms.

To occupy his fidgeting fingers, he raked them through his hair, then glanced around the waiting area, surprised to see that he wasn't the youngest person in the room. Two younger men were sitting across from him in the same uncomfortable position as he was, wearing similarly embarrassed expressions. Knowing he wasn’t the only one in the world dealing with performance problems was something of a relief. Taking a deep breath, he leaned his head back, resting it against the wall, and closed his eyes. He didn't even open them when he heard someone shuffle nervously through the waiting area and take the seat next to him.

“I thought I missed your appointment.”

Surprised, he opened his eyes to find Hermione seated next to him, shyly smiling. “Hey,” he whispered in greeting. “How did you know?”

Blushing, she pressed her lips together. “Your father wanted to know why you took a day off, and I... I might have checked your schedule. I know you write everything down. I was afraid I'd miss you here.”

“I should have known you'd check,” he replied before leaning his head back again, fighting the knot in his throat. Despite the relief in discovering that he wasn't the only man with a performance problem, he still couldn't help but feel embarrassed about it in her presence. He guessed that it was because he also felt like he had failed her, that he had indeed neglected her, as absorbed as he had been in his own problems.

“You okay?” she asked quietly, reaching for his hand, but then pulling back at the last second, as if she was unsure about his reaction to her offer of comfort.

He nodded, noticing her move from the corner of his eye. As uncomfortable as he felt about the situation, he was still glad she was there with him; he could certainly do with some of her Gryffindor courage right there. His head still leaning back, he took her hand in his, gently interlacing their fingers. “I'm sorry for lashing out at you.”

Her smile was soft. “It's okay,” she said, gently squeezing his hand. “I should have known. I definitely didn't mean to hurt you, and I'm sorry for going behind your back instead of trying to talk to you first... But I'm here now for support, okay?”

“Thanks.” After their awful fight, and an equally lonely week mulling over his options, this was everything he needed to hear. The knot in his throat finally loosened, and he couldn't help himself but leaning over to press a kiss to her cheek. “You know, I thought about taking a long break from work,” he said, leaning back against the wall.

“Define _long break_.”

“At least a month, probably longer. Depends on what the doctor says.”

“Then let's go somewhere, just the two of us. Relax a bit, reconnect...” She briefly leaned her chin on his shoulder. “I mean I have so much extra time, I can easily take a month off. And we tell no one where we go.”

“Just the two of us, that sounds nice,” he said, with a faint, but hopeful smile on his lips.

The nurse stepped into the waiting area, a patient sheet in her hand. “Mr Malfoy? The doctor is now ready for you.”

“Go. I'll wait here.” Hermione squeezed his hand reassuringly before he got up. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

 


End file.
